Ambitions of a Horned Freak
by Kari Suttle
Summary: Slytherin!Dark!Harry and Diclonius!Harry. What if the 'power the dark lord knows not' was Harry being born not a human, but a diclonius – a new non-human magical race? Harry has a choice to make – either live to become the prophesied savior of the wizarding world, or a new Dark Lord even stronger and more powerful than even Voldemort himself.
1. Chapter 1 - Choice

Author's Note: This fic features Dark!Slythirin! Harry and Diclonius!Harry. If you have not seen the anime elfin lied and have no clue what a diclonius is, I suggest you go watch elfin lied before reading this. Its only thirteen episodes long. Quite short for an anime, really. Read and review!

Chapter One - Choice

It was 9:00am on a Friday morning at the Dursley family household. Summer was well underway, halfway finished already as a matter of fact. Uncle Vernon was in the shower upstairs and Dudley was sitting at the kitchen table playing the gameboy color that he'd got for Christmas while Aunt Petunia and Harry fixed breakfast – bacon, eggs, and toast.

"Freak, get started on the toast and set the table." His aunt barked at him, eyeing the white horns on either side of his head like cat ears with a level of disgust she reserved only for him. She didn't even hate the loud neighbors with the barking dog who never mowed their grass as much as she did him and his horns. He'd had them since the day he'd been born. "Make sure you don't burn it! Vernon should be up any minute now." He cringed involuntarily at the mention of Vernon – Vernon would be furious if he burnt the bread or broke a dish. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

He dutifully got out the bread – white bread for Dudley and Uncle Vernon and whole wheat bread for him and Aunt Petunia and set to making toast. Two slices each for Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and one each for him and Aunt Petunia. He was proud of himself, he hadn't burnt the bread in the new toaster in over a week now. The last time he'd ended up with the metal side of a hot frying pan just off the table to the head courtesy of Aunt Petunia for his stupidity and a fist to the stomach from Uncle Vernon for wasting his money and had gone without breakfast that day. Since then, he'd experimented with the toasting timer and found the perfect setting for the perfect toast and made sure to check it everytime, even if rationally that wasn't a necessity because he was the only one who used the toaster because they only ate toast at breakfast and he was always the one who had to fix it. He would never again burn the toast if he could help it.

When the toast was done he set the plate of buttered toast on the counter by the sink and started setting the table. Dudley was already seated at the table playing the purple gameboy color he got for his birthday a year prior. Judging from the music, he was playing the new pokemon game. Harry had always wanted to play it ever since Dudley got a gameboy and pokemon yellow for his ninth birthday but he wasn't allowed to touch Dudley's toys. The only toys he had were broken and mangled cast-offs from Dudley that he'd had since he was young.

He could hear the shower turn off upstairs. Dread filled him – Uncle Vernon would be mad if breakfast wasn't on the table when he got downstairs. His aunt shoved the hot pan of eggs at him. "Here, boy! Hurry and put this on the table! Remember to put it near my chair, you know Dudley likes the bacon close to his chair." He nodded, only half focusing on what he was doing as he took the eggs from his aunt and put them on the table. Uncle Vernon took family meals very seriously, just as seriously as he took his and Dudley's grade's in school. Even if he was frequently accused of cheating or funny business if he got a higher grade than Dudley did on a spelling or math test. Not that he would escape a blow to the head if he failed the test and let Dudley do better than him, because then he'd just get hit for failing and wasting their hard earned money buying him school supplies and driving him and Dudley to school every day.

"Quit standing there like a useless lump and go get the jelly!" His aunt yelled at him. "And grab the salt and pepper on your way!"

He nodded, then remembered his aunt probably wouldn't see his nod putting the bacon on the table. "Yes, Aunt Petunia." Grabbing the strawberry and grape jelly and the salt and pepper, he put them on the table and sat down just as Uncle Vernon walked in the kitchen.

"Morning Dudley!" Uncle Vernon boomed, watching as Dudley piled half the bacon on the plate onto his own plate. "Good morning, Pet." His aunt and uncle shared a kiss and Harry looked down at his plate in mild disgust. Niceties and lovey-dovey just did not look good on Uncle Vernon. As the both of them sat down to eat, his Aunt noticed Dudley's plate.

"Dudley, dear, save some bacon for your father!" His aunt scolded.

Uncle Vernon gave Aunt Petunia a look as he started filling his own plate with just as much food as Dudley had put on his. "Go easy on him Pet, he's a growing boy! Growing boys need their bacon." His aunt glowered in silence and helped herself to small portions of everything on the table. Harry made sure to pile as much as he could get away with taking onto his plate before Dudley took it all. He couldn't get too much or else Dudley would complain that he was taking all the food.

"Got any plans for the day, Pet?" Uncle Vernon asked. So far he was in a good mood, but it wouldn't take much to set Vernon off. Harry slowly ate his food, keeping his eyes on his plate and hoping Dudley wouldn't find some reason to complain about him. Maybe if he didn't look at anyone he could go through the meal unnoticed. He would have ate quicker but he'd found that if he ate slowly then he would feel fuller than if he wolfed it all down like Dudley currently was.

"Yes, dear, I'm going to take Dudley and the boy school shopping today." His aunt replied. Well, never mind about going unnoticed.

"But mum! Why does he have to go? He'll ruin everything! Why can't he stay home? " Dudley protested, spraying half-chewed food all over the table as he spoke.

His aunt replied as if he wasn't even there. "Because Duddikins, if we leave him home who knows what he'll get up to. We might come home to find the house blown up for all we know."

This didn't console his cousin at all. "But won't dad be home? Why can't Harry stay with dad?" Dudley wailed, starting to fake-cry.

Uncle Vernon growled at this. "Because, Dudley, I'm going out golfing with some potential new business partners today." Harry had to stifle a laugh at this – he couldn't imagine his fat uncle golfing.

Dudley started fake-crying at this. "B-b-but I do-don't want h-him to g-go! He'll – he'll r-ruin it and ev-everyone wi-will stare at th-the horns!"

Harry rolled his eyes, but Uncle Vernon saw it and cuffed him on the head for it. "Don't be smart, boy. You're lucky we even send you to school. If I'd had my way you wouldn't even be going, but its mandatory. Granted if I had my way, we would have put you in an orphanage the day you arrived. You should be grateful, boy. Dudley and Pet are almost done eating, get to work on the dishes, boy!" His uncle growled, before forcefully shoving him off his chair, sending him falling to the tile floor. The glass of orange juice that had been in his hand shattered as it hit the floor, sending glass and half-drank orange juice all over him and the floor.

"I-I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon!" Harry cried, "I didn't mean to break it, I swear! I'll clean it up right away." He sputtered, nearly tripping over his words as he spoke. Nevermind that it had been his uncle's fault the glass broke, he was in for it now.

Vernon got out of his seat and Harry instinctively curled into a protective ball, shielding his head in his arms as his uncle sent a kick to his stomach. "Damnit boy, look what you did! Stupid ungrateful brat!" Another kick, this time to his back. "Get up and clean this mess up! And help your Aunt with the dishes!"

He nodded numbly and stood carefully, mentally assessing how much the fall and kicks had hurt him. "Yes, Uncle Vernon." He was sore and his back and stomach and shoulder hurt but he didn't feel like anything was broken. He would bruise later though. Forcing himself to his feet and fighting back tears, he went to the pantry to get the broom, grabbing a fist-full of paper towels on the way.

"I'm going to go get my golf bag ready and if I come back and that mess isn't cleaned up and the dishes aren't put away, you're gonna get it boy!" Uncle Vernon growled, retreating from the kitchen and heading back upstairs to his and his aunt's room.

Harry didn't reply. Dudley laughed at him on the floor cleaning up the orange juice as he finished off the last few bites on his plate, which of course had also been the last few bites that had been on the table. Dudley was never done until there was no more food left to eat. "You're so stupid, Harry. Can't even hold a glass right. Its no wonder you fail all your classes. A stupid horned freak!" Dudley kicked him on the back of his legs, sending him straight into the juice and glass mess on the floor and embedding small shards of glass into his hands and arms. Dudley put his plate on the counter for his mother to clean before darting out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He wouldn't be expected to help clean, just him. Just the boy, the pest, the freak. He held back a groan of pain as he forced himself back to his hands and knees. This would be the least of his worries if he didn't get the mess cleaned up and the dishes done. If Aunt Petunia had to do all the dishes, he would get it and Uncle Vernon would lock him in the cupboard for the rest of the day without any meals.

Then there were footsteps on tile, and the sound of a dishwasher starting. Oh no! His aunt was already done with the dishes. She was going upstairs to get ready to go. Uncle Vernon would be furious! He hissed in pain as he hurried to pick the glass from his hands and arms with the orange-juice-soaked paper towels. He gingerly wiped the glass shards off of his shirt, trying not to aggravate his hands. He tossed the bloodied, juice-soaked paper towels in the rubbish bin by the counter by the sink and grabbed the broom from where he'd set it against the wall by the table. His hands felt raw and tears were sliding down his sunken, pale cheeks against his will as he swept up the glass into the dustpan, but he had to get it done. He had to. But his mind wouldn't stop thinking anyways.

Tears sprang to his eyes. 'Why does everyone hate me. What did I ever do? Was I just born not good enough? Is that why mom and dad drank, cause they were embarrassed to have freak with horns like me for a kid?' Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia certainly were. They reminded him about it as much as they possibly could every day, either by words or actions. Anger boiled in his veins. 'What did I ever do to them?!'

Suddenly, there was a voice in his head. _"You know you don't have to put up with that ,ean, selfish human. I can make him go away for you. Forever."_ He startled, gasping in shock, and froze in place. The voice again! It sounded like him but not him, darker, more sinister. 'But where else do I have to go? I don't have any more family.' _"With me, you can make a family of your own."_ 'I don't get it, that's not possible. I can't - '

"BOY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" Harry screamed, forced from his thoughts as Uncle Vernon appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with his golf bag thrown over his shoulder. "I TOLD YOU TO CLEAN, BOY." Uncle Vernon advanced on him, red-faced and livid. "And you're standing there in the middle of the kitchen daydreaming again like an idiot!"

"I-I'm sorry Uncle Vernon I didn't mean to!" But Uncle Vernon ignored him and punched him in the face, sending him to the floor once more. Harry curled up in a ball again instinctively, shielding his face and stomach as best he could already sore as he was. "I'll pay attention! I'll get it cleaned up! I swear!" But he was being ignored. Uncle Vernon was kicking him mercilessly, venting his anger at him. Harry focused on the ornamental part of the kitchen table leg that he could see through his arms and tried to tune out the world. If there was nothing, nothing just numbness, if everything was a world away, he could get through it.

No doubt some of his uncle's anger had more to do with having to go to a golf meet for business talks instead of a dinner than him. And because Dudley was going to go out school shopping for supplies for a grade he was having to repeat while Harry went up a year. But ten year old Harry didn't know this, didn't understand it. 'Why? Why me? Why does everyone hate me? Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley. Even the teachers at school look at me like I'm some idiot cause I have to fail all the tests.'

At some point or another pain exploded in the back of his head. Uncle Vernon must have kicked him in the back of the head. "Vernon, dear, me and Duddikins are going out no-" He heard something, someone screamed. "Vernon, what have you done?! My god, he's laying in his own blood! You're going to kill him! If you kill him that freak headmaster and murderer will both come after us!" It was a high voice. Aunt Petunia? Had Uncle Vernon hurt him too much? Aunt Petunia didn't like it when Uncle Vernon hurt him too much because then he couldn't get her chores done fast enough. "Relax, Pet, the boy will be fine. He's always fine! Damn horned freak can heal faster than us normal people." Dimly, numbly, as if from far, far away, he registered Uncle Vernon picking him up by the collar of his shirt and tossing him in his cupboard. Distantly, he heard the lock slide on his cupboard door. Was he locked in? He could hear a loud voice, what was Uncle Vernon saying? Was he being locked in for the rest of the day? Footsteps retreated up the stairs above him and his Uncle's loud, angry, furious voice began to fade as he was pulled into a deeper part of his mind.

Everything around him was a vast world of darkness. He had been here before, it was the deepest part of his mind where the voice lived. He saw a naked, bandaged figure about his height and build, completely naked save for bandages wrapped completely around their head and horns. All he could see if its face was one single, bright emerald green eye. This was the voice, this was the bandaged one. _"Because this world was not made for you."_ It spoke, putting what was supposed to be a comforting hand on his shoulder. _"I can help you there."_

He shuddered and backed away from the bandaged one. "But what can you do? You're just a voice, just my imagination. Aren't you?"

The bandaged one shook its head. _"You should know by now what I am. Why do you think I have the same emerald green eyes as you?"_ Harry faltered, unable to come up with a reply. _"I am the voice of the instincts of your DNA. You are distressed, you are hurting, I can help."_

Harry stared quizzically at the bandaged one. "But how can you help me if you're just my instincts?"

The bandaged one laughed a hollow laugh. _"I am much more than your instincts. You have a power laying dormant inside you. You have felt it in your dreams stirring inside you."_ He gasped. How had the bandaged one known?! He woke up in the middle of the night every night from the same dream – he was in this dark space, and the bandaged one was there but only in voice not body, and he could feel something moving inside him, inside his back.

"I-I have power? But I don't have any power. I'm Harry, just Harry." He stuttered.

The bandaged one held out its hand. _"Would you like to have power? To make a family of your own? To rid the world of all the mean, selfish, greedy humans that ignore you, insult you, beat you, and look at you like you're just gum on the bottom of their shoe?"_

His eyes lit up. "I can have power? I can be strong, and have a real family?"

The bandages shifted on the bandaged one. It was smiling. _"Yes. We are one and the same, Harry James Potter. I am your instincts. Listen to me and together we can remake the world into a world of your own."_

Harry's expression was glowing with hope for the first time in his life. "What do I have to do?"

The voice laughed again, and smiled even wider. _"Its simple really. You just have to kill everyone."_

Harry's expression turned scared. "But is that fair? Do they really deserve to die?"

" _All your aunt has ever done was use you like a free servant. Your uncle hates your very existence and your cousin bullies you. The teachers scold you and look at you like you're a lost cause. The other students avoid you cause of your horns like you're some sort of disease. Do people who are that selfish, who treat you that badly, really deserve a single breath they take?"_

Anger rose up in ten year old Harry James Potter. Everyone had always hated him. Why had everyone always hated him?

The bandaged one spoke up again. _"Everyone hates you because this world was not made for you. You have a choice to make. You can chose to ignore me and live a life of being treated like rubbish, or you can chose to listen to me and make this world into a world of your own."_ The bandaged one took a few steps closer to him, holding out its hand imploringly. _"The choice is yours. Which do you choose?"_


	2. Chapter 2 - Destiny

Author's Note: Again, if you haven't watched Elfen Lied you are not going to understand some of what's going on. I highly recommend at least watching an episode or two before reading this. Forgot to say this in the last chapter, but i do not own either Harry Potter or Elfen Lied. They're property of the respective geniuses that wrote them. Remember to read and review!

Chapter Two - Destiny

* * *

Previously:

Anger rose up in ten year old Harry James Potter. Everyone had always hated him. Why had everyone always hated him?

The bandaged one spoke up again. _"Everyone hates you because this world was not made for you. You have a choice to make. You can chose to ignore me and live a life of being treated like rubbish, or you can chose to listen to me and make this world into a world of your own."_ The bandaged one took a few steps closer to him, holding out its hand imploringly. _"The choice is yours. Which do you choose?"_

* * *

" _So, which do you chose? You are not long for the world now. Do you want to die here, miserable, in a world that hates you? Or do you want to make a world, a life, of your own?"_ Only a moment of hesitation passed before Harry lifted up a shaky, pale hand, taking the offered hand of the bandaged one and speaking in a strong, firm tone that he had never spoken in before. "I chose you! I want to be strong! I want to make them feel the same pain that I have."

The bandaged one grinned, and the bandages unwrapped themselves from the bandaged one's head to reveal a face identical to his, save for the passionate, maniacal grin on its face. _"Good. Then lets get out of here and make them pay for everything they did to you."_

Harry was shoved out of the deepest part of his mind and back in to the real world, back into his dark cupboard. He was laying on the blanket, and the back of his head felt warm and sticky. Was he bleeding? Something warm, comforting, buzzing flowed through him, healing his injuries and taking away the dull pain all over his body and the sharp pain in the back of his head. He would have called it magic had he known the right word. _"Break the lock."_ He pushed himself to his knees.

Going on instincts he hadn't known he had, he focused on the lock on his cupboard and looked for the source of the odd, stirring feeling in his back from his dreams. The bandaged one had called them vectors in his dreams. When he found the vectors, he mentally grabbed them and shoved them out. Four see-through arms burst forth from his back and twisted around his bloodied, bruised form, hitting the lock and the cupboard door itself head on. It was as if a force even stronger than Uncle Vernon had rammed the door, it was sent flying off its hinges and crashing into the far wall of the living room across from him, breaking the tv and tv stand.

He could hear yelling from upstairs, it sounded like Petunia and Vernon were yelling about him. The bandaged one commented on his lack of titles. _"Just Petunia and Vernon, huh?"_ His reply was short and simple, yet full of hatred and bitterness. 'No family would treat me like this. They are no family of mine. Family is supposed to love you and they've never loved me.'

Vernon came barreling down the steps, red-faced and angry once more but also scared. "Wh-what the hell are you doing, you freak?! Do you know how much its going to cost me to replace that door of yours?! Get back in your cupboard, you freak!"

Petunia and Dudley were right behind him. "Mummy, Harry looks scary!"

Petunia hugged Dudley close to her. "Its alright Duddikins, he's just mad that he got in trouble." She cooed, before turning to Vernon. "Vernon dear, leave the boy alone and go to your business meeting. I'll handle him. The ungrateful, selfish little brat already broke the cupboard door."

"Freak? Ungrateful? Selfish?" Harry seethed in anger, his vectors hanging, waiting, in the air around him. All three Dursleys turned to him, never having heard him talk in a tone so angry, so cold. "You're selfish, not me…and I'll make you pay!" His shoved his vectors at the Dursleys, decapitating them all at once. Blood sprayed all over the foyer walls and the floors and the rug and his face and his two sizes too big hand me down green shirt and jean shorts.

But Harry was unfazed, his eyes cold as emeralds as he looked on at the bloody mess that was now the foyer. He felt empty, nothing, numb. Everything was cold, a cold, calm, focused, numb anger. He couldn't put words to it properly, he just knew that he'd never felt more alive, never felt more sure of himself. This was why he had been born. This was his purpose. "I will kill them all. I will make my own home in this world that threw me away. I'll remake the world!"

He went over to the bloodied body of his uncle and lifted him up just enough so that he could take the wallet out of his pocket. Opening it up, he took out the 100$ bill he had in there. 'He won't be needing this now.' He had to pack up a bag and leave – he had no reason to stay here anymore. He changed into a new outfit – khaki shorts and a faded blue t-shirt – and put on his shoes. He got his school backpack from last year out of his cupboard and packed a spare outfit into it before grabbing his comb, toothbrush, and toothpaste from the bathroom. He threw his black knit cap on his head to hide his horns. It was a hand me down from Dudley so it was naturally a size or two too big for him, but with his horns it fit just right. If it had fit him, then it never would have fit over his horns.

Giving his bag one last look over, he deemed himself packed and headed out the door, leaving the only home he had ever known without a single second thought about it. He didn't know where he was going cause he hadn't had a plan past getting away, so he just let his feet lead him. He walked and walked and walked until his feet took him to the park, so he sat on the swings because they were his favorite. He'd never cared for playgrounds, just swinging. He had always liked swinging, it made him feel like he could fly. Fly far, far away from his family, his school, his life. He would love it if he could fly.

Where would he go now that he had killed his relatives? Apart of him still couldn't believe he'd actually done it, actually killed the Dursleys. He half expected them wake up and come barreling down the street to the park to take him back home, beat him up, and shove him in the cupboard with no meals for a week. There was no way even with them dead he could go back there – the cops would come. He didn't know if he'd go to jail or if he'd be put in an orphanage if they found him – would they even suspect him? Magic wasn't real. Not that what he'd done was magic, it was his vectors. He didn't want to get caught even if all they did was put him in an orphanage. No one could be trusted, all anyone ever did was hurt him and bully him. Even the teachers at school had bullied him behind his back for his horns. He scowled remembering it, his hands curling into fists as he remembered their words.

 _Nine year old Harry sat by himself in the far corner of the room away from all of the other children, doodling on the side of his already finished assignment._

" _That's the Potter boy, Dudley's cousin." The teacher told the new assistant. Harry glanced over at them before hurriedly looking back down at his paper. 'Why do they all hate me? I try my best to be good. What am I doing wrong?'_

 _The new assistant looked shocked. "Really, he's Dudley's cousin? I never would have guessed they were related, they're total opposites. He's so quiet its creepy. And just look at those horns. They're disgusting!"_

" _Yes, and everyone avoids him for it. He even gives me the creeps." His teacher replied, "He might be quiet and obedient but he's got the worst grades in the class, and he actually turns in all of his work. His cousin Dudley is a bully and he never turns in his homework, period – he's going to be held back at this rate."_

 _Harry clenched his fists on his desk, accidentally pushing on his pencil so hard that the led broke. 'Why do they all hate me! Just cause I'm different, just cause I'm a freak. Why?'_

Harry clenched the swing chains tightly in his fists, so tight it hurt. 'I should kill them too.' He thought angrily. Then he gasped, a sharp intake of breath. 'Wait, kill? Did I really just think that?' he thought, momentarily horrified at the workings of his own mind. 'But I – I made the Dursleys die and they deserved it. They deserved it. Do my teachers deserve to die, too? They _were_ just as mean to me as Dudley and Petunia are. Were, I guess, now.' He corrected himself. Then a thought occurred to him. 'But can I even go back to school, without a place to stay? I didn't think about this!'

Suddenly, he was shoved off of the swing and into the dirt. Two boys were laughing at him. "There are you are, scarface!" He knew those voices, it was Dudley's friends Piers and Malcolm. "Where's Big D, eh? He hasn't shown up yet! He told us he'd meet us at Piers' after lunch."

Oh so that's what this was about. "I don't know. I've been here all day." He lied through his teeth. "I wasn't allowed to go shopping and they didn't trust me to stay home."

The boys laughed. "Haha, that's rich! Even your own family hates you." Harry's eyes narrowed and his hands curled into fists. "Ooooh scary glare. I'm so terrified! Aren't you terrified, Malcolm?" The other boy just laughed. "Yeah, so terrified. What's a puny little brat like you gonna do to us? We beat you up last time."

Harry growled, pushing himself to his feet and standing tall and confident. He'd never felt so sure of himself in front of Piers and Malcolm. "Go away." The boys just laughed at him, mocking him. "Go away or I'll kill you!" The boys balked at this, suddenly unsure of themselves. Obviously they doubted the validity of his claims – because surely a tiny ten year old half the size he should be couldn't stand a chance against two boys much bigger than he was. But the threat and the sudden burst of confidence behind it shook them up. They were cowardly bullies. All talk and no bite. "I'll say it one last time, go away!" He wasn't sure if he actually planned to kill them or not if they refused, but he'd jump that bridge when he got there. Either ways, their blood on the grass wouldn't be a loss to anyone. If anything it would benefit the gene pool.

Luckily for their own sakes, the boys backed down. "Fine! You're no fun anyways, not without Dudley anyways." Malcolm said, starting off in the general direction of his house. Harry watched as they left, listening. "Come on Piers, let's go to my house and call him. Maybe they went out to lunch or his mom took him clothes shopping or something." Piers protested. "Why not just go to his house?" Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Because my house is way closer, duh! Besides I don't wanna walk that far if they aren't even home yet."

Good, they weren't going to the Dursley's. He let out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding and sat back on the swing. Now he just had to figure out what to do with the rest of the day till evening. He'd never been allowed to just go out and play all day before like Dudley, not until it was nearly evening and all his chores were done. He wasn't quite sure what to do with his newfound freedom. Dudley and his friends went and did stuff without their parents around all the time but he had never gotten to do anything. Should he stay at the park? Go see a movie? Go to the zoo? He had gone to the zoo for Dudley's birthday just a few days prior but their visit had been cut short by the snake incident.

"Wonder were that snake got off to. Hope she's nice and warm, and happy." He thought, kicking at the dirt lightly, just enough to move him a bit but not enough to actually be swinging. "Now that she doesn't have to sit in a cage just so people can gawk at her at all day long, anyways. She was nice." He liked animals, animals were always nice to him. Save for Aunt Marge's dogs, at least – her dogs were vicious. But all of cats had liked him, even the big grumpy grey one . Of course, he supposed if he was named he would be pretty grumpy too. Even Piers' dog had liked him, and he'd been scared of him when he first met him. Piers' mom had asked Petunia if Dudley would like to get paid to check on it everyday for a week when Piers' family went on vacation last month. Dudley had chickened out and made Harry do it for him, so he could get paid without having to do any of the actual work.

Eventually Harry got hungry and he was forced to leave the park in search of something to eat. By this time, the sun was just beginning to dip below the rooftops. It was getting late, probably near dinner time. He had plenty of money, it was just a matter of deciding what he wanted to eat. He'd never had a choice before, and he'd never had the option to get as much as he wanted either. Now he could order as much as he wanted! No more Vernon ordering the cheapest, smallest meal for him and growling about the money being wasted on him, and no more Dudley trying to steal his food!

He walked several blocks out of the neighborhood and into town, finally settling on having some plain old fish and chips at a diner. He decided to eat his fish and chips at the tables outside because he just didn't feel comfortable inside the crowded, loud diner – too many people. Besides, he rarely got to go outside for anything save yardwork. By the time he was done with his chores he was usually too exhausted to do anything other than sit on the bed in his cupboard and try to catch a few minutes of whatever Dudley was watching on tv in the living room through the grate on his cupboard door. He liked that one show Dudley and his friends were into, Dragon Ball Z.

He ate and listened to the family sitting beside him chat animatedly, feeling bitter as he caught bits and pieces of their conversations, windows into a life he'd never had. The little girl was talking at length to the father – stepfather, he assumed, because she called him by his name – about a tv show, and he was listening somewhat attentively, nodding and talking back with her about it. A toddler was coloring at the table while his mother ate. 'Why do they get to be normal, why do they get to be happy? I'm just as important as anyone else, aren't I?' His hands curled into fists, starting to crush the paper cup he'd been given. 'I hate them. Why do they get to be happy but I don't? Why do I have to do the extra work just to get what they all just have? Its not fair!'

He felt the bandaged one's presence in his mind. _"Why don't you just kill them? They would do the same to you as everyone else would. You know it. No one has ever liked you before."_ His hands relaxed. He wanted to feel powerful and alive again. He wanted to make them all pay for rejecting him. _"Kill all of the selfish, greedy humans."_

The toddler dropped his blue crayon on the ground, and it rolled away. "Uh-oh! I get it." The toddler climbed out of the chair and walked after the crayon. Thrusting his vectors out from his back, he pushed them at the toddler just as he was reaching for the blue crayon.


	3. Chapter 3 - Shadow

Author's Note: I do not own either Harry Potter or Elfen Lied. I only own any characters you don't recognize and my half-formed idea for a plot. Remember to review! Let me know what you like, what you don't like, any ideas for where this should go, etc. Thank you so much to everyone so far whose read this, reviewed it, and/or put this on alerts or favorites!

Chapter 3 - Shadow

A toddler's scream caught the attention of the dozen or so people in and around the diner. The rest of his family and bystanders close by rushed over to him. Blood spurted from the boy's wrist – his hand was gone, cut clean off by some invisible force. His mother was screaming, "My baby! My baby, what happened to my baby?!" Harry let go of the cup and turned his head to watch them. Apart of him ached watching the mother embrace her bleeding, screaming toddler and hold him close. "Help! Someone help, my baby, my baby…" He had never known what it was like to have a mother. Everyone had a mother or someone to love them, everyone but him it seemed. 'Petunia said my mom and dad probably crashed the car hoping I would die too. Said they were freeloading alcoholics with a horned freak for a son, said that all the newspapers made fun of them for it.' He scowled at the woman and her toddler. 'If her baby had horns like I did she wouldn't be yelling over him. She wouldn't give a damn. She would hate him too!' Angry, he lashed out with his vectors and cut the woman's arms and head clean off.

The toddler started screaming and crying even more and bystanders started running away, yelling and screaming. The wavy haired brunette girl was crying hysterically, clinging to her stepfather's t-shirt. "Mike, what's going on?! What happened to mum and Billy!?" The man pushed her off of him. "I don't know. Run inside. Go! Hurry!" The girl hesitated, too scared to leave.

His hands clenched into fists as he watched them. 'Why is he protecting her? She isn't his daughter. Why does that girl get treated nice and protected and I didn't?' He growled angrily. 'I hate these horns!' The man shoved the girl forward, towards the diner. 'No you don't. Why should you get to be happy. You're no better than me!' He shoved his vectors forward once more, splitting the girl in half as she reached for the doorknob and attacking the man, splitting him in two as well.

Sirens wailed in the distance. 'I should go.' Calmly he stood from his seat, leaving his trash and half-crushed empty cup behind. 'I don't like it here.' A waitress called over to him from a few tables down. She must have been serving customers when he attacked the boy. "Hey little boy are you okay? You must have seen everything!" She hurried over to him, another one following her and going to the toddler. "Oh my god, you're covered in blood!" He ignored the woman and absently cut off her head with his vectors as he turned away from her. 'She wouldn't be so concerned if she saw my horns.' His emerald eyes trained on the still screaming, sill bleeding toddler, his expression becoming sad as he looked at the boy. 'If he lives, he's just going to get beat too. No one wants an extra mouth to feed.' With that in mind, he ducked his head so his hair covered his eyes. He didn't want to see it as he willed a vector to cut straight through the boy's neck and the chest of the waitress holding him. 'At least he got a quick death.' Hearing the sirens just down the street, he walked away. This time, no one tried to stop him.

Meanwhile at Number 4 Privet Drive, an investigation was underway. The wards around the house had alerted Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic's Department of Law Enforcement that members of the family had been killed, and a team had been dispatched to the home immediately, to be headed by one Mad Eye Moody, an aurorer. Madame Amelia Bones had floo'd to his home personally the moment she got the signal from the wards and he had agreed to temporarily come out of retirement to go on the case. The welfare of the Boy Who Lived was of utmost importance, and Mad Eye was the best there was.

But even Mad Eye Moody had not been prepared for the conclusions that their scanning charms were coming to. "This is preposterous! None of it adds up!" he growled, turning to Magical Reversal Squad representative Marjorie Brown behind him. "Do the scans again! And make sure you do the proper wand movements!" Brown looked sharply at him, not appreciating being doubted, but repeated the magical residue detecting charm again.

Words appeared in thin air once more. "Same results as earlier. Nothing but an unidentifiable magical residue left on the inside of the cupboard door. There are no traces of magic on the Dursleys or on any of their doors or windows at all. Nor are any doors or windows broken. Are you satisfied now?" Sharp brown eyes dared him to say no, before she continued. "But that is not what I am concerned about, Mad Eye! The only traces of a magical core signature are coming from the blood in the kitchen and in the cupboard. It small size suggests that it is from a child, no doubt . The fact that it is most potent in the cupboard, where a mattress and blankets have been set up, suggests to me that he lived there." Canceling the spell, Brown turned fully to face Mad Eye Moody.

Mad Eye shrugged. "Muggles abusing wizards isn't new, Brown. You're only concerned because it's the boy who lived." He waved at her dismissively, and turned to the pudgy, middle aged man standing uselessly by the body of the cousin and aunt. "You, obliviator! Strengthen the anti-muggle wards. I'm going to need to call in some consultations." The pudgy man nodded furiously and hurried out the front door, and Moody turned to the tall skinny dark haired man from the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committtee standing beside him. "Make yourself useful, and go get me the Muggle Weapons consultant and the Magical Creatures consultant from the Magical Law Enforcement Department. The spells used on their bodies came back inconclusive about what killed them, but it did say that they all died at the same time. I need to know just how these three people died."

The tall skinny man nodded - "Yes sir! Right away sir!" – and aparated away.

Harry walked around aimlessly, letting his feet lead him wherever. 'Its not like I have a home to go back to.' He had found himself wandering around another subdivision. This one looked less well-off than his own. There were chain link fences instead of wooden ones and the houses were small and worn down. Some of the yards were poorly taken care of and had toys carelessly left out on the porch, on the steps, or in the grass. 'Petunia never lets her yard get that bad' he thought. 'No, she _would_ never let her yard get that bad. She's gone now.' He smiled as he remembered. He had to keep reminding himself – he still felt like they would just wake up from the floor, put themselves back together, and come after him to take him back home.

It was getting fairly late, and the sun was starting to set. 'Where am I gonna sleep?' he thought to himself. Then, he saw a 'for sale' sign out in front of one of the houses. There was a lot of discarded furniture, some of it broken, piled haphazardly in the driveway and a half dozen big black bags full of trash by the curb. A really old, rusty pickup truck without wheels was in the driveway perched on cinderblocks, seemingly abandoned.

"Wow, I guess these people were in a big hurry to move." Grinning to himself at his luck, he ran up to the front door and stopped in front of it. He held out his right hand and closed his eyes, focusing on the source of energy inside him in his stomach and pulling at it, mentally pulling at it and visualizing it flowing from his stomach up through his chest, towards his right shoulder, down his arm, through his fingers. He visualized the doorknob unlocking itself. "Unlock!" he ordered, focusing hard on imagining the energy pushing at the mechanics of the doorknob and unlocking it. _Click!_

"Yeah! I did it!" he congratulated himself, walking in and locking the door behind him. He'd been using this trick for years to sneak food when he would get locked in his cupboard with no meals for days, weeks, anytime until Vernon decided not to be mad at him anymore for whatever he'd done wrong. The house was completely empty, devoid of any sort of furniture. He could hear a dog barking in the backyard. "A dog? Did they leave their dog?" Something he hadn't felt before rose up in his heart – Concern? Worry? – and he went through the living room into the kitchen to its left and found the back door. A medium sized black dog with sad brown eyes, floppy ears, a thin, straight tail, spotted white paws, and a burst of white on its chest was at the backdoor whining and crying and pawing at the glass.

His heart fell and a lump formed in his throat at the sight. "They left you here, didn't they? You're just like me, aren't you?" He reached up and opened the back door, letting the dog inside. The dog barked and barked and barked, jumping all over him excitedly. "Sit!" he ordered, pushing the dog off of him. The dog didn't listen and jumped up again, knocking him down and climbing all over him to lick his face. He pushed the dog off and stood up, pointing at the floor. "Sit boy!" he said sternly in as firm a voice as he could muster. The dog sat down. He grinned down at the dog and petted it. "Good dog!" He said again. "I just ate but I bet you're hungry, and thirsty. Lets find your water bowl."

He had helped enough with her cats, surely feeding this dog wouldn't be too hard. He glanced around the kitchen but didn't see one, so he went out back to look. Lo and behold, an empty food and water bowl sat out back on the porch. "There they are! Lets fill them up for you." The dog got excited again, its tail wagging so hard that its but was wagging as it followed him closely inside again. He pushed the door closed with his shoulder and put the bowls on the counter. He filled up the dog's water bowl and put it down so the dog could drink, and then went in search of the dog's food. " gives her cats a gigantic bag of dry food, maybe you eat the same thing…" he muttered, half to the dog and half to himself. There wasn't a bag in the pantry but he did manage to find one in the garage, it had a plastic cup inside it already. Filling the plastic cup all the way, he went back to the kitchen with it. He had to push the dog away from him a lot as he made his way over to the counter, and no amount of yelling 'sit' was working. He could understand why, though. "I know you're hungry but I have to put it in your bowl, boy." He told the dog. The dog didn't seem to understand. Maybe dogs weren't as smart as Mrs. Figg's cats. Then again, he'd never met any neighborhood cat as smart or as big as cats. "There you go!" he exclaimed, putting the dog's full food bowl on the floor for it to eat. He watched sadly as the dog wolfed down the food. "Poor dog. No one loved you enough to take you with them, huh?"

It wasn't long before the dog had gobbled down all the food and licked all the crumbs out of the bowl. It looked up at him expectantly. "Wanna go outside and play?" he asked, guessing. He wasn't sure what the dog wanted. Dogs played, right? He walked to the back door, opened it, and walked out but the dog shied away. Huh? "Don't you wanna play? Come here, boy." But the dog refused to budge, instead whining and walking further into the house. His shoulders slumped and his heart sank again as he realized something. "You think I'm gonna leave you out there, don't you?"

Sighing, he walked back inside and into the living room looking around for the dog, and the dog ran back over to him. He knelt down to the dog. "I'm not gonna do that to you, okay? I'll take care of you." he said, petting it with both hands this time, trying to reassure the dog. The black dog plopped down on to its back, exposing its belly for a belly rub. He obliged, flushing when he noticed the dog's lack of…certain male reproductive organs. "Oh, you're a girl. Sorry, I just assumed you were a boy…I guess you'll need a girl dog name, then, huh?"

He paused, thinking. "How about Shadow?" The dog didn't bark or show any sign of understanding him. Maybe dogs really weren't as smart as 's unusually large cats. "Shadow it is, then. Hope you like the name cause that's your new name, okay girl?" He sat there on the beige carpet of the living room floor petting the dog and rubbing its belly. Eventually the dog curled up beside him and fell asleep, and eventually sleep claimed him, too.


	4. Author's Note - Rewriting

Author's Note:

I will be rewriting this fanfic. I feel like I rushed turning Harry into nothing but a murderer. It will have the same plot, but I want more of a lead up to Harry killing the Dursleys and I also want to show more of a human side to him, and him wanting to know more about himself, his magic, and his parents. With working full time and going to school I don't know how often updates will be, but I have a general idea of where this fic is going so there's at least that. Plus I don't think I've been more into a fanfic in ages. Anything in particular anyone wants to see in the rewrite? I have my own ideas already, obviously, but if anyone has any ideas I like I'm open to them.

~ Kari


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